


Come By The Hills

by thepizzasitter



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Bisexual Raven, Blow Jobs, Bottom Charles, Charles Is a Big Dorkface, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles You Slut, Charles You Will Be Drunk, Charles is a Tease, Darn right Erik would look amazing in a kilt, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Edie Lehnsherr is alive yay, Erik Has Feelings, Erik You Slut, Erik has Issues, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Erik is Scottish, Erik is a Sweetheart, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Kilts, M/M, Mind Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Protective Erik, Sassy Raven, Scottish Character, Smitten Erik, Top Erik, Witty Banter, and will hopefully never know the filthy things charles and erik are doing with each other, author will stop making ridiculous tags now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 22:29:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4497141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepizzasitter/pseuds/thepizzasitter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Two men grappled on the ground, one blonde--the one who had landed on him, he suddenly realized--and the other with sandy, copper hair. Their bodies were slick with the sweat of exertion and the flex of corded muscles that shifted alluringly in the bright sun, shadows casting about without purchase as they each tried and failed to find a grip on the other. They wore nothing but kilts, the patterned fabric their only modesty, and Charles felt his mouth go dry at the sight." In which Erik is Scottish, Charles just wants to read his book, and Raven is a quality sister. Cherik. Charles/Erik AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come By The Hills

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GQD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GQD/gifts).



> This was inspired ages ago by garnetquyen's art on Tumblr (http://garnetquyen.tumblr.com/post/61646962497/im-always-late-to-the-table-otl-here-is-my-comic) and I've finally gotten around to posting it! I couldn't get the image of Michael Fassbender in a kilt out of my head. "Toss the Feathers" and "Joy of Life" by The Corrs and were a couple of my songs inspirations for this fic. For additional fics, drabbles, cosplay, and more, please check out my Tumblr (kesstiel.tumblr.com) Hope you all enjoy!

“Raven! For heaven’s sake, just give it back! I didn’t even have a chance to mark my place!” Charles shouted above the noise of the crowds. High pitched squeals of delight mingled with shouts of both annoyance and gladness, the din of conversation, thoughts, and music. Music absolutely _everywhere_. It floated on the wind only to settle into the minds of everyone there, each body just waiting to be swept up in the sharp notes of bagpipes, sweetly echoing flutes, and rowdy fiddles that sang their siren’s song to the carefree people of the faire.

“As if you don’t know this thing backwards and forwards.”

As it stood, Charles’s main care at the moment was getting his book back from his sister. “Stuffy old fart,” she’d sighed mournfully, leaning into his shade beneath the broad boughs of a tree near the food stands to examine the book he’d brought to occupy himself while she traipsed around the tents, doing goodness-knows-what. _Really, Charles? You had to bring that along?_

He had. He’d indulged Raven in her whims and let himself be dragged along to the faire--to Scotland _entirely_ , in fact, he didn’t often leave Westchester just to please Raven--though he’d agreed that Scotland could offer him the serene peace that large amounts of empty space provided. In theory, anyhow.

He hadn’t had a moment’s peace to work on his thesis since he’d set foot on Scottish soil, courtesy of Raven’s insatiable curiosity and his own admittedly unhealthy amount of interest in the local taverns nearby. He might be able to drink nearly anyone back home under the table, but a determined Scotsman was a force to be reckoned with, and he’d nearly been beyond all coherency by the time his latest challenge had finally been unable to drink a single drop more, passed out as he was. There had been awe and admiration, a few grudging compliments that probably had something to do with his drinking prowess, and more than a few digs at his accent and nationality, but it’d all gotten rather hazy. The thoughts swirling around him had been comforting and warmed by good food and drink, and with them wrapped around him like the softest of blankets, he’d joined his contender in the land of nod, dead to the world. He’d woken up in one of the beds upstairs with the hangover of the century, and an exuberant Raven chattering far too loudly at him, ready to face the world and do it all over again.

 _He’d_ been ready to vomit and hide in the confines of his room until the end of times descended on them.

Raven was laughing now, darting expertly through the crowds and waving his book high over her head like a beacon, shouting her mirth in a way that was most definitely _not_ endearing. And yet, people parted for her, closing back in with jeers and laughs of encouragement as he tried to catch up with her, and failed miserably. Eventually, he gave up and sighed, deciding to wait her out in the relative coolness of a nearby tent. He kept a watch on her mental signature, so very Raven and wholly familiar in this unfamiliar place.

The woman inside eyed him with a knowing look, shaking her head fondly at his rumpled state. “T’aint easy catching a fair lass,” she said sagely, grinning at him. “But worth it, I should think.”

“It will be. I’ll get my book back from her at any rate. Sisters are rotten to the core,” he grumbled, smiling in return.

She arched a brow, gesturing at him to sit beside her while she worked away at a block of soap, carving it into an intricate shape that had yet to take an established form. Her mind was pleasant, a caring, spry and supple sort of feeling with just enough sharp edges to let him know that no one ought to underestimate such a woman, even without delving further in.

“Ye’ll be gettin’ no argument from me on that score, lad. We sisters have to be certain that our wily brothers know their place.” She laughed, and offered him a piece of the soap that she held. “But we are sometimes appeased by simple things like good, sweet smelling soap. Ye take that an’ see if she don’t come runnin’ back.”

“I don’t know if I should trust you. You’re…” he glanced around as if telling a secret he didn’t wanted overheard, and leaned in close. Her mind reached towards his in piqued curiosity. “One of _them_.” He widened his eyes dramatically, and let out a mock gasp. “What will the other sisters of the world think of such betrayal?”

“They won’t be thinking none of it, ‘cause ye won’t be goin’ around tellin’ on a sweet old mam now, will ye?” She fluttered her lashes at him, giggling like a schoolgirl and made a shooing motion with her hands. “Out with ye now, and go give that to your sister in exchange for your book. Or, keep it for yourself and see if ye can’t wash off that stubborn determination to not enjoy yourself.” The woman winked, and Charles blinked stupidly for a moment before he realized she was right.

He’d been feeling more than a little peevish, wanting desperately to be back in the familiar space of his library, researching and finishing up what desperately needed to get done, but he could let himself enjoy a brief holiday.

He breathed in the smell of food and people and animals for what felt like the first time in days and smiled genuinely.

“Thank you, Mrs…” _Edie. Edie Lehnsherr._

“Edie, love. Just Edie. A handsome rogue like ye is always welcome to use my first name,” she chuckled, giving him a devilish smile that made him blush before he waved and made his way out to the lane once more.

“There you are!” Raven called, running to his side as soon as she caught sight of him. He offered her the block of soap, smiling at her exuberant squeal. “Good grief, Charles, I steal your book and you buy me soap? You’re going to make me feel guilty.”

“Maybe that’s the point,” he said primly, before they both dissolved into laughter. “Actually, the lovely woman in that tent gave it to me to give to you as bribing material.”

“The betrayal!” Raven put a hand to her heart, but gave his book back. “Seriously though, Charles, this place is amazing. But it’s not as much fun without you.” Her pleading eyes would have done him in, even if he hadn’t already decided to give a holiday a chance.

“Alright, alright, let’s go then. What should we do first? I’m not hungry yet, so should we try our hand at some games?”

“Yes!”

Charles adamantly refused to choose the winning cup that concealed a coin underneath, while a disgruntled Raven pouted and told him that the man who hid the coin had his tricks to cheat with, so why should Charles not use his? Nearly two hours later, Charles was feeling grateful that he had thought to bring along some extra money. Raven was on a winning streak at a Spoil Five table, and the look of fierce glee as she bested yet another set of contenders would have made any smart man either shrink away in fear or lay more money on the odds of her winning the next round.

Content with their spoils, Raven grabbed his arm and dragged him past the food stands that he’d been eying furtively towards a large clearing with a massive crowd gathered around it. The shouting was as wild in their heads as it was out loud, and he immediately started backing away, protesting when Raven continued to race forward.

“I want to watch a wrestling match,” she said, beginning to weave them through tight spots of the throng.

Charles sighed, feeling the beginnings of a headache emerge from lack of food, water, and sleep, grumbling about his fate and the evils of sisters and wrestling. “Raven, why don’t you stay and I’ll go get us some food for after the match?” He tried, he really did, but it seemed that Raven was the psychic today.

“Not a chance, you’re not getting out of this! Trust me, you’ll love it. It’s action packed and I’ll bet I’m still hot on this winning streak, so maybe we’ll win something.”

Resigned to his fate, he followed obediently after her, apologizing each time he was jostled into someone.

_\--Take ‘im down! There’s a good lad--_

_\--those muscles! If I weren’t a married woman--_

_\--for the leg this time, he’s favoring his left--_

_\--fuckin’ curr, takin’ all my money like that. Better teach him a lesson--_

He rode the swells of thoughts, trying to block out as much as he could to keep his headache from worsening, but it was no easy task, pressed up against everyone as he was.

That was the excuse he was going to use forever and always for not noticing that Raven had slipped around to the other side of the arena to place her bets, leaving him standing alone at the front of the crowd, in the direct path of a flying body that smashed right into him, sending him and a few other innocent bystanders to the ground. The crowd roared its approval as the man who had just crushed what felt like Charles’s spleen struggled up off of the telepath, charging back into the fight without so much as an apology. Charles wheezed a breath and got himself onto his elbows, clutching his aching ribs and waiting for the stars to dissipate from his vision.

_\--poor boy, should have ducked--_

_\--what a sight! Right back on his feet, but he’s no match for--_

_\--oh I’d give anything to get tossed onto a bed like that--_

_\--for good this time, Magneto! C’mon lad I have money on this--_

Charles gaped, eyes wide as he took in the sight before him, head still reeling from his fall. Two men grappled on the ground, one blonde--the one who had landed on him, he suddenly realized--and the other with sandy, copper hair. Their bodies were slick with the sweat of exertion and the flex of corded muscles that shifted alluringly in the bright sun, shadows casting about without purchase as they each tried and failed to find a grip on the other. They wore nothing but kilts, the patterned fabric their only modesty, and Charles felt his mouth go dry at the sight.

The blonde one finally had the other man under him, forearm pushed against the slighter man’s throat in a way that blocked Charles’s view of his face. He held his breath, wondering if this was it, if the match would end with the blonde as the victor. Without thinking, without having any idea why he suddenly deemed this result unacceptable, he put his fingers to his temple, still sprawled on the ground, projecting as loudly as he could.

_Don’t you dare give up! Win, win, you must win! Let go, if you pretend to stop struggling, he will fall for it! Just let go!_

_What in the bloody hell? Came the baffled, incredulous reply. Well, he ought to have expected that._

_He’s not very intelligent, for all he’s a giant. He’ll fall for it. Let go!_

There was no reply, but he saw the struggling form of the man go still, waiting with strained patience and hips kept minutely, deceptively, off the ground in a way that would be visible to the judges, as the blonde man crowed with triumph, easing his weight up just enough for the other man to--

Charles was rather grateful that he was already on the ground, or he might have simply passed out at the sight of the complex maneuver the copper haired man executed. Hips twisting up the way one would ride out a buck from a skittish horse, he threw the heavier male off of him, only to wrap his legs around his middle as he did, to effectively reverse their positions and force the blonde’s hips to the ground. The brute was so stunned, he didn’t even manage half a struggle before the match was called in favor of the underdog.

He had won! He’d done it! Charles was panting nearly as hard as the wrestlers, caught up in all the excitement of the crowd’s cheering and roars of approval. Giddy happiness and lust coursed through him as he watched the way the victor didn’t let up for a few moments, eyes tracking the other’s movements like he was still a threat, before he slid off the other sinuously and offered a hand to help the other up, both grinning like they hadn’t just been grappling with all their strength and they clasped forearms and bowed, before striding away to their corners of the arena to grab skeins of water.

Charles lay back down against the ground, smiling like a fool, and probably looking it too, sprawled with limbs spread as he was. He caught a few stray thoughts that confirmed his suspicions, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Raven had been right, as usual. He hoped she’d put her money on the copper haired man, or she’d be in far less of a good mood than he was at the moment. Right now, he felt like he could go a few more hours at the faire than he’d expected, if only to work off the nervous energy that buzzed through him with the lack of adrenaline.

A shadow fell over him, and he looked up into molten blue eyes, his whole body jolting in surprise and sudden recognition of who was standing over him.

_“Oh!”_

His squeak could hardly be called dignified, but he felt his possible concussion was a perfectly valid excuse for his incoherency. That, and the handsome face staring down at him. His hair was darker with sweat, a few strands coming loose from the small braid he had resting against his temple. His neck was arched to keep the sun out of his eyes, and Charles wanted to lick at the sweat that crept along the column slowly.

“Are ye alright? I’m so sorry, I didn’ mean to toss him on ye like that.” _Hope I didn’t hurt him, is he alright? Beautiful, if only--need to have more control. Can’t hurt anyone else, have to control it or they’ll make me stop can’t go back--_ troubling thoughts, but God help him, that voice could make greater men than Charles want to hear it in an entirely different setting. Rough-edged and steel, but with a gentleness that overlay the fierceness of his brogue. He wondered what it might sound like wrapped around his name. He could only gaze up dreamily for a moment before he remembered himself.

“Oh, I--er, I think I’ll live. I’ll admit, I didn’t even think to defend against flying men when I packed. I might have brought some armor if I had. Always prepare for the weather and all that. Do you think an umbrella and a helmet would be sufficient?” He asked, smiling when the man’s mouth slackened in surprise before the corners turned up into a smirk, eyes warm and assessing. He was nearly radiating a pleased sort of contentment, the results of the fight and _has a bit of snark to him, I like it_ rattling around in his head. He knelt down to join Charles in the grass, and _oh_ he should think twice about moving any closer or Charles was going to do something embarrassing like ask him if he’d like to show Charles how to do that groovy flip-thing...in a bed.

“Might have to add some braces and shin guards, if you want to be _really_ prepared.” The brogue had softened, and Charles wondered if it got stronger depending on the Scotsman’s moods. He kept their gaze, bringing the soft leather ties of his own arm braces to his teeth, tugging them loose as he grinned a shark’s toothy smile and slipped them off his arms. Before Charles could make a quip in return, the intent that flashed through the wrestler’s mind struck him mute. The stranger’s hands were sliding gently along his fingers to his wrist, drawing Charles’s hand towards him. His fingers crept up to the telepath’s forearm, pushing the thick material of his pullover up until his thumb was pressing into the crease of his elbow just enough to keep him still while he fitted the brace onto his arm and began to re-thread the ties. When he was done, he moved onto the next one, the easy movements of his fingers sending heat chasing want chasing lust through Charles’s body.

 _They look good on ye. Ye may not look like a warrior, but I have a feelin’ ye are far stronger than I, in yer own way._ And that, _that_ was deliberately projected towards him. Panicked, Charles looked up from the braces, cheeks blushing pink and fearful that he had somehow outed himself--in more ways than one--and was about to be faced with...well, it didn’t bear thinking on.

The look of shock mingled with awe and no small degree of want complimented the sharp spike of the same that soaked into every thought the man was having right now.

 _I was right, ye were the one talkin’ in my head while I was fightin'?_ It was barely a question, but Charles swallowed to answer it anyways.

“Yes,” he admitted hoarsely. “I’m very sorry about that, really I am, I just wanted you to win so badly, but you were--and he was---” he gestured vaguely, shoulders slumping a little at the way language had suddenly seen fit to abandon him. “I won’t do it again.”

Those fingers tightened just slightly on his arm, barely felt through the braces. “That’s not a promise you can keep, is it?” the man asked, sounding more curious than demanding.

He went for broke. “No,” he said, ashamed for even trying to lie in the first place.

“Then don’t make it. I wouldn’t ask you to anyhow.” Charles looked up suddenly, watching the man’s face warily, but with more hope than he could remember feeling in years. The wrestler seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then glanced around to see if anyone was watching. When he was satisfied, he reached into the small pouch settled along his hips over the kilt and withdrew a coin. He turned his palm down, letting the coin drop from its place on his fingers, only…

It never hit the ground.

_Please, please don’t scare him away._

It spun slowly, rotating in the air under some outside force, and Charles gasped as it floated up to him. He held out his hand, and the coin was dropped into it. He stared at it, before a smile began to spread across his face.

 _“Incredible,”_ he breathed, looking back into blue eyes that were, unfathomably, a little watery. “Telekinesis?”

The man shook his head. “Just metal and magnetic fields.” He seemed to hesitate for a moment, before he reached out to take the coin back. “I thought I was the only one.” _I thought I was alone._

Charles looked down to where their fingers were still brushing, the urge to link them together nearly overwhelming. “Oh, my friend,” he sighed happily, feeling the elusive peace he’d sought when he first arrived. “You are not alone.”

\---

The third time Charles’s stomach growled in as many minutes, Erik--they had been so excited about finding another like them that they had nearly forgotten to exchange names--insisted that they go find some food before Charles expired from hunger. They’d been so caught up in their conversation, they had barely noticed the sun beginning to set.

“It’s not as bad as all that. I need to find my sister, I’m afraid she made off with all my money earlier in the day.” Finding Raven was going to be a task and a half, especially in the dark and with her refusal to let him use his telepathy around her...

Erik looked unimpressed. “You needn’t be bothered, I have enough for the both of us. If your sister would like to join us, just call her over--” he wiggled his fingers near his temple, which was apparently going to become the universal sign of mind reading if Charles had anything to say about it. “And we can eat.”

Ah, and therein lay the problem. “I’m afraid Raven doesn’t, er, like my powers overmuch. She likes her privacy, and has expressly forbid me from even glancing at her thoughts. I’ve only just begun to be permitted to project to her, and her to me, and I’d rather not risk her mood by attempting it now without warning,” he explained rationally. In truth, it had always hurt, the fearful way she shied away from his abilities, as if he was the one at fault for simply being who he was. He loved her more than enough to suppress that part of him when she was near, but that didn’t make her small rejections hurt any less. Still, she too often had to do the same, her natural form a bit too...well, _blue_ for normal company. Their restraint was certainly a two way street.

The frown Erik wore would be enough to tell him that he agreed, to say nothing of the fervent thoughts of _shouldn’t have to hide what ye do is amazing and powerfulfrighteningbeautiful want them to accept us ye’re like no one I’ve ever met not afraid stay with me want you want you want you._

His sharp inhale at the emotions rolling off of Erik in waves seemed loud in the quiet evening, everyone taking a reprieve for food and drink before the final events of the night. The sun was giving off only the barest glint of light over the horizon, but Erik must have seen his eyes go wide, because he suddenly looked away.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean--” The helpless huff of frustration nearly made Charles’s heart break. “Aye, I s’pose I can see where she would feel that way, even if she’s wrong,” he admitted. “Cannae be easy, having every secret exposed for someone to do what they wish with them. It’d be like being flayed alive, only ye are powerful enough to make the incisions pleasant, aye?”

Charles felt like his world might crumble under the weight of such an accusation, though it was nothing he hadn’t heard before. The person speaking, though…one whose body and mind were scarred from tortures Charles was almost afraid of seeking out and prying into, only vaguely alluded to in the hours of their conversation through war and the chilling hatred of people who hated the idea of _different_. Odd, but he felt like he’d known Erik for years, rather than the handful of hours they’d conversed. Whatever their strange connection, it was enough to make his heart clench in sorrow at the other’s words. He was right, of course. Charles had yet to find the limits of his powers, but that didn’t mean he was capable of…

He hoped he never would be.

“I--I think I had better find Raven. Thank you, truly, for the offer of food, but she’ll be worried and I don’t think--” _Back away now, you need to leave. Better to have this one wonderful day rather than ruin it with your arrogance._

“Charles.”

“--it’s not a good idea to leave her to her own devices. She’s terribly impish and gets into trouble far too easily--” _It wouldn’t work. He’d get bored, or angry, and what’s the point if everyone you get close to doesn’t want the closeness you want?_

“Charles.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose anyways--” _Walk away now, Charles Xavier! It’s not like you’re leaving your heart behind, you barely know him!_

“Charles!”

He hadn’t realized he was weeping, small tears escaping the corners of his eyes, until callous-roughened hands were cupping his cheeks, thumbs brushing the salty liquid away.

“Um...I-I’m sorry, I don’t know why--” He stuttered, shoulder shaking as he tried to reign himself back in, angry and embarrassed for carrying on like that.

Strong arms pulled him into a warm chest, still bare and smelling of musk and earth and sweat from the match. His face was tucked into the dip of Erik’s collarbone, his nose skimming the ridge of it. He started, unsure of himself, before he just let himself take the moment, arms hesitantly coming up to drape around Erik’s back, fingers lightly pressing into the small of his back to anchor himself. The wrestler shivered, despite the lazy heat of the day, and stepped back after a moment, keeping Charles close instead of pushing him away.

He looked at surprised as Charles did at the gesture.

“I don’t--I’m not usually--I’ve never…” he trailed off, in seeming disbelief, before he smiled, just a small quirk of his lips, and shrugged a little. “It doesn’t matter. Felt good. Is that really what you think of yourself?”

Oh. He’d been projecting his little panic attack. Wonderful.

“I--”

“No, nevermind. I don’t want the answer.” He grimaced. “You thought I was sayin’ something against your abilities, didn’t you? That’s why you pulled away?” His frown deepened, and Charles turned to look out across the field, nodding and biting his lip roughly to keep more tears at bay.

“Stop that,” Erik admonished, reaching a hand up to brush his fingers against the telepath’s mouth and wipe away the small drop of blood that had beaded there. “I’d been apologizing for scarin’ ye, actually. I know it’s considered…” _pervertedwrongbutitsgoodsosogoodifonlytheyknew_ “...unnatural for a man to want another man as I do, and I thought ye’d caught--” _Me lookin’ at ye. Wantin’ ye. I barely know ye, but ye seem too gentlekindopen for the kind of hatredviolencemalice that most show for so called inverts like me. Shouldn’t have to hide it’s not wrong in the slightest mutti knows and lovesacceptsunderstands me all the same I hate them I hate them but you’re different and I think I could lo--_ “The untoward thoughts I was having. I was only saying that your sister might be afraid of her own thoughts sometimes. It’s worse when ye can hear them and possibly understand them better than they understand themselves. It’s easy to feel...” _weakvulnerableterrified_ “...overwhelmed, I s’pose.”

Charles’s own head spun from the beauty of the mind before him, more beautiful than the body it was encased in, all passion and neat lines and chaotic emotion mixed with hard-won order. When he spoke, it felt like he hadn’t used his voice in ages. “How...how is it that you know her so well when you haven’t even met her?” His smile was watery, but firm in its place.

Erik shrugged, but looked pleased. “Humans are humans, I think. More ugly than good, more fear than trust.”

Charles frowned. “I would have to disagree with that. People are capable of so much good and joy and love, though just as easily swayed into anger and violence and bigotry.”

Erik raised a brow, forgoing the debate they could smell brewing. “I think we ought to discuss the merits of humanity over a meal and a pint. We’re going to need it if that’s the topic for the night,” he said wryly, earning a laugh from the telepath.

“Perhaps you’re right. And for the record, Raven’s like us. She can...well, if we find her, you’ll understand why it’s so hard to track her down, with or without telepathy.”

Erik’s brow went higher, a grin spreading across his face. “I think I’m alone and now two in one day?”

“It’s like Christmas come early,” Charles agreed, falling into step alongside Erik. He felt their fingers brush, and a blush bloomed across his cheeks. He could reach out and take the Scot’s hand. He could let him know that he was not alone in this either. The welcome rolled off Erik in comforting waves, reassuring him, but was he brave enough to reach out and take the offer? That was the question. Of all the things that he had already learned about Erik, the unwillingness to hide seemed to be among his most defining and beautiful traits. Was Charles willing to step into that? He knew what he wanted, but he’d made mistakes before. More than one officer had been confused as to why he had no recollection of what he was doing with this brown haired young man who was _perfectly innocent didn’t kiss that man please don’t hurt me thank you very much for your services to the community officer and have a pleasant evening._

“Charles!”

“Ah, speak of the devil, and the devil shall appear. Is that the saying?” Charles laughed, opening his arms just in time for a blonde whirlwind to collide into him.

“Where did you sneak off to, you dolt? You weren’t reading that damn book again were--oh!” Raven’s eyes went wide as she registered who was keeping him company. “You’re the wrestler! Magneto, right? Oh my god, it was _such_ a pleasure getting to watch that match! You’re amazing. I wish they had wrestling for girls here, I would have loved to join in, but unless I changed--” she snapped her mouth shut, a sudden look of horror spreading across her face. “Uh, changed outfits, I don’t think it would have been possible anyways. I like this dress too much to destroy it, even for a good fight.” Satisfied by her recovery, she beamed at Erik.

“It’s alright Raven, Erik is like us. I was explaining to him why it might be difficult to find you, given that I’m fairly certain you’ve already thought about trying your hand at wrestling if you can find somewhere to change discreetly.”

Raven’s mouth dropped open.

“You’ll catch flies, love.”

“Holy shit--”

“Raven! Language, please!”

“Another mutant? Oh my god, what can he do? What can you do?” She stepped forward, grabbing Erik’s hand to shake it excitedly. “Charles always said we couldn’t be the only ones!”

Erik looked to Charles for help, trying not to smile at the girl’s antics, but the warm look of fondness in Charle’s eyes as he watched the joy on his sister’s face allowed him to accept the arm-wrenching hand shake without complaint.

“I can manipulate metal and magnetic fields.”

“That’s so badass.”

“Raven,” Charles groaned, shaking his head.

“You would have called it groovy. That’s way worse than ‘badass’. It’s practically an insult, in comparison or not.”

“It’s a perfectly acceptable word!”

“For an old man!”

Charles rolled his eyes to the heavens, shouting ‘sisters’ at it, as if it would respond.

Erik couldn’t help himself, he laughed. The sheer absurdity of the situation was intoxicating. It was frightening to have forgotten his anger for even a moment, but he wanted-- _needed_ \--more. This bright, exquisite man who had already become something precious to him. He knew...he knew...he didn’t know how much he knew.

Charles looked over to him, even as he continued sparring verbally with Raven, and the comfort and promise in the voice echoing inside Erik’s head nearly sent him to his knees with gratitude.

_Everything._

_And ye haven’t run from me?_

_How could I? Why would I want to?_

_Because I’m...brokenhatefuldamagedcrueldifferentbitterangryaweaponmonstermonstermonster._

_You are none of those things. You are angry, true, but it is not who you are. And you are anything but a monster._

_What am I, then?_

_Aside from Erik Lehnsherr: accomplished wrestler, master of metal, intelligent conversationalist, slayer of past demons, kind-hearted warrior, and future champion of mutant rights if my guess is correct?_

_Ye make me sound like some hero out of a damned harlequin romance novel, but why the hell not? What else?_

_Beautiful._

Erik sucked in a sharp breath, stunned into silence. He felt like he couldn’t move, like the world had tilted just enough to keep him off balance.

Blue eyes that had turned molten in the darkness were trained on him, and the telepath was sending him wave after wave of assurance. That his interest was returned tenfold, that he was scared as hell, but thought that whatever was between them was more than worth the risk to pursue. That they could change the world together, if they gave themselves the chance.

“Aye,” he said quietly, in his head and out loud. “I think we could.”

\---

“Oh, Charles, they’re about to start the dances! Can we stay a little longer, please? I promise I won’t ask to come tomorrow if we can stay till the end of today.”

Charles laughed, wondering how he had ever thought that this faire was a bad idea. “Of course we can, Raven, and we can come tomorrow as well. I’m afraid the place has grown on me.”

Raven’s eyes flicked over to Erik, who was talking to a fellow wrestler quietly, glancing back over to where Charles and Raven stood every so often, as if to make sure they were safe.

“I’m not sure it’s the faire you’ve suddenly grown an attachment to.”

Charles cast his eyes to the ground. Step one to not hiding: tell his sister where his interests lay.

“Raven--”

“Look, if it helps, I already knew.”

“What?” He shouted, drawing several gazes, including Erik’s, to him. “What?” he asked, quieter but no less fervently.

“Well, aside from the eyes you’ve been making at Erik since I walked over, and probably before that when I couldn’t find you, I’ve always prided myself on being good at understanding people. Sometimes, when you’re flirting with a girl at the bar, you actually look at her boyfriend like he’s the one you’re really interested in. When you’re drunk, you’re even willing to take a fist to the face just to get some attention from him, which is really unhealthy and sad when you deserve so much more. I’ve always thought you probably liked women best, but the few guys you have been interested have held your attention for longer.”

Charles seemed to be doing a lot of blank staring today. Raven giggled, pleased at her deductions. “Am I right or am I right?”

“You’re right. Are you okay with that?”

His sister rolled her eyes. “As if there was anything you could do that I wouldn’t forgive, if not understand, accept, and love. Don’t let that go to your head though, it’s inflated enough.” She leaned in closer, donning a devious smirk. “And anyways, if you think you’re the only one with, ah, alternate interests, you’re sorely mistaken. You forget I’m not limited by silly things like gender.”

Charles squeezed his eyes shut and clapped his hands over his ears. “And that is where the conversation ends, sister-mine! I thank you to never, ever bring up your sex life in my presence again!” He laughed, lowering his hands to hug her tightly to him. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“Always.”

When he leaned back, he caught Erik looking at them with an unfathomable expression on his face. With a jerk of his head, he beckoned Charles over, and Raven said something about finding her own room tonight before she tossed a wink over her shoulder and flounced off to where the dances were about to begin. The other wrestler and Erik nodded to each other before the former took his leave, eyeing Charles speculatively.

“Are you staying for the dances?”

“Seems I have no choice in the matter. Raven wants to stay.”

Erik’s smile nearly made his heart glow. “Good. Fair warnin’, though. It’s rowdy and the dancin’ gets a bit obscene the longer the mead flows.”

“This may come as a shock to you, but at home, I’m a bit of a party animal. My first night here, I drank a man--literally--under the table.”

Erik’s smirk should not have been as irresistible as it was. “Another night, ye will be havin’ to prove that to me.”

“Why not tonight?”

Erik leaned in close, the heat of his skin searing into every sense Charles possessed. Erik caught the telepath’s hands in his, thumbing over the braces Charles had almost forgotten were there, and drew them to his hips, just above the waistline of his kilt. His own hands slunk underneath the hem of the thick sweater Charles wore, the touch so soft and teasing that Charles could feel his heart pound and the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

Erik’s mouth brushed along the edge of his jaw, head moving back and forth in a slow circuit from his cheek to just below his ear. He pressed an open mouthed kiss to the side of his neck, and _oh the thoughts in his head._

“Ye can see them, can’t ye?” He murmured, voice low and intimate. The heat in his words, his body, his mind, was unmistakable. “See all the filthy things I want to do with ye?”

“Yes.” If his voice cracked, that wasn’t even remotely his fault.

_Do ye want those things? Will you let me do them?_

_Yes! Oh, please--_

“That’s why not tonight.” Erik drew back, thumbs tracing under those perfect, captivating blue eyes and leaned down for only a moment to kiss the corner of the telepath’s mouth. “Let’s go join the others.”

“What?” Charles huffed indignantly, eyes a little glazed over. “Erik, I don’t know what you thought that little display was going to accomplish, but if any part of that list _wasn’t_ an ill-timed erection…” he shook his head, smiling in spite of his words. “I don’t even think I can dance in this state.”

Erik smirked. “Ye won’t be alone in that, but I think ye are forgettin’ what dancing really is.”

Charles beamed and laughed. “Ah, it’s always nice to meet someone who is as fond of foreplay as I am.”

“Have ye met many?” _Will ye meet many more?_

“Not that I’ve gone home with as of late.” _I don’t want anyone else._

“Good.” _Mine._

“Feeling possessive, now, are we?” _Yours._

“Aye, and a bit more besides.” _For how long?_

“Show me.” _For as long as you’re mine in return._

“Come dance with me, and I will.” _Ye might be lookin' at forever, then, no matter that it’s madness and I’m more than a little scared at the thought._

_Yes, my friend, I’m beginning to think forever might suit me just fine._

\---

 _“Erik!”_ Charles cried out, face pressed into the pillow in frustration as the fingers that had been plundering his body mercilessly withdrew once more. His breaths were mere pants, and he couldn’t help the whimper that escaped him when he felt Erik’s fingers return with a new coat of lube to tease along his entrance. They’d been at it for what seemed like hours with the way Erik would bring him close, _so very close_ , to the edge with his mouth and his hands only to soothe his body and drive his lust up higher and higher with unadulterated _need_ until he felt like he would pass out from the denial of his release.

“Patience, liebling. I’m not finished with ye yet. I want ye wrung out and screaming by the time I’m through, and ye are too strong to let go so easily. I’ll not take one moan of my name I haven’t earned.” The burr brought Erik’s voice to nearly a rumble and Charles’s hips jerked back against the two fingers that slipped into him easily once more.

He’d been stretched and prepped, and now Erik was simply seeking to drive him wild, if the thoughts swirling around in his head were any indication.

It was working.

Charles had never felt so needy in his _life_ , and he tilted his ass shamelessly, letting Erik see how he clenched against the lithe fingers wreaking havoc on his prostate.

“Ye cannae know how ye look right now, Charles,” Erik moaned, pressing his fingers in deeper, thoughts of pushing into the tight heat that surrounded his fingers blazing like fire through his mind. _So wrecked and beautiful and all mine!_ “So filthy and pretty like this, legs spread for me like the slut ye are.” Another blurt of precome slicked against the sheets, and Charles whined high in his throat at the way Erik’s words gutted him and left him writhing for more. “Do ye want me, Charles? Want me inside ye, liebling?”

“Yes, yes, _please_ Erik, God I need you _in me!_ ”

“Tell me, schatz. Tell me what ye want me to do. If ye can’t say it out loud, ye have other ways of makin’ me know what ye need.” Erik growled into his ear, and heaven help him, but Charles felt more powerful than he ever had before, with all of Erik’s desire and affection and something that he wouldn’t name just yet for fear of it not being what he most wanted it to be, all laid bare for him. If one day could bring this kind of fervor to his life, what would months and years do for them? He so very badly wanted to find out, and knowing Erik wanted the same, that Erik wanted him in his bed and heart and soul and _mind_ was enough to make him bold.

“I want you to make me beg for it,” he moaned. “I want you to hold me open and use your mouth and fingers to make me forget anything but your voice in my head. Take whatever you want from me. Nothing will be withheld from you. I’ll show you how the mind can bring fulfillment beyond the physical and then I want you to sink into me and fuck me into incoherency. Mark me and use me and make me writhe! Make me take it all until I’m so full of your come it leaks onto the sheets tomorrow when I try to move. I want your pleasure and your anger, your pain and joy, every ounce of what you have to give. Do you hear me, Erik? I want _everything!_ ”

The restraint that had been coiled in Erik’s frame began to crumble, like so much stone falling to dust, and Charles found the back of his neck kissed gently, the whisper of a mouth pressing reverently at the already marked skin there. Erik shivered when he sank further down beneath him, silently requesting those kisses to move along his back. He complied, withdrawing his fingers just to hear the displeased grumble it solicited, and kissed the bit of softness clinging to Charles’s hips, growling when Charles whined and buried his face in the pillow again. He had to watch, had to see his face. He turned him over, mesmerized by the flush seeping across pale skin.

“Please, Erik,” he whispered, and Erik would have missed it if every sense hadn’t been trained on this incredible man spread out under him, his to please and worship in whatever manner he wanted.

“Aye, I can do that, Charles.” _You’re a wonder, ye know that?_

_I’d rather know how your--fucking hell yesyesyeslikethat--_

Slick, wet heat filled both of their minds, a push and pull between them, each shudder running through one to the other as Erik pressed himself down further, letting Charles hit the back of his throat before he swallowed.

_Oh, oh darling that’s perfect that’s--I don’t--ah!_

Erik’s eyes were light with mischief, his mouth red and full and Charles let his head fall back among the pillows to allow his hands the pleasure of running through Erik’s hair, tugging occasionally when the quick pulls lit electric sparks shimmering along the edges of Erik’s consciousness. He twisted the small braid around his finger and could feel the satisfied rumble from Erik down to his bones, his lover’s thoughts alight with letting Charles braid and bead his hair; a small token of ownership compared to the way Charles was twined around his very self at the moment.

Suddenly, the loop doubled as Erik slid his fingers back into Charles, pressing his legs apart with his other hand. They both moaned at the feeling of lips and fingers and the emotions blanketing the room. Instead of feeling stifled, as he had always assumed he would, Erik felt comfort like he’d never experienced. It was foreign and uncertain, but it was there, and Erik had no intention of hiding. Not that he could.

_Yes, love, not alone. Never that._

And if that didn’t set him aching…

“Lie with me, Charles.” His voice was wrecked, as much from the overwhelming need to be enveloped by this man’s mind as from Charles's cock pushed down his throat. “Please, can I--”

 _Yes._ “Yes, please, yes! Want you to,” Charles begged, and Erik could only comply, kissing his neck as he began to sink inch by inch into the warm body under him.

“Slowly, like that,” Charles murmured breathlessly, sighing when Erik stilled, letting him adjust. “So good for me, Erik.” Lights danced in Erik’s mind at the praise, and Charles rolled them until he was on top, sinking down just a bit more, enough to make them both hiss at the new sensation. “Is this--?”

“Yes,” Erik choked out, trying desperately not to give in and thrust up into the tight heat squeezing him.

 _Good._ A slight shift, and Charles began to move, rising up only to impale himself again and again, slowly at first, until his body craved something more than the controlled twitches of his hips could give them. Their rhythm intensified.

_Ye should see yourself, schatz, fucking yourself on my cock._

Charles jerked violently above him, crying out when Erik began to move as well, pressing up when Charles sank down, so deep and perfect and--

_I can, but I’d much rather look at you. Yes, yes like that, fuck me harder, love!_

_Verdammt, Charles!_

There was only a split second of warning before Charles found himself on his back again, and Erik was thrusting back in, a punishing pace that had Charles mewling in seconds. His legs pulled Erik in, hands pinned beneath the strength of one of Erik’s broad hands while the other pulled at his cock. Trapped, in the best way, between pushing down onto Erik’s length and fucking up into his fist. “Erik, Erik, oh god, please, I want--”

The blur of thoughts was like flying, their pleasure indistinguishable from one other’s, an infinite loop of taking and being taken, and Erik nearly whited out when a brush against Charles’s prostate sent the connection into overdrive.

“Come for me, Erik!” Charles commanded, and Erik only managed two more thrusts before he was careening over the edge into a place where the physical world held no sway. The was no differentiation between his body and his mind, his entire being felt their combined release. He heard Charles call out for him, and there was a moment of even higher intensity before he blacked out.

\---

When the world blurred back into focus, Charles was gently running a damp cloth over him and smirking down at him.

_Smug bastard._

“I think I have every right to be pleased, my friend.”

“If ye mean sending me into the next dimension with..."

_What even was that?_

Charles’s smile softened and his lips turned up in a delighted curve that made Erik want to taste them all over again.

 _As far as I can tell, it’s what happens when our minds are open to each other’s. I can’t know for sure though, since you’re the only one I’ve ever done that with._ And if that stirred something low in Erik’s belly, it was Charles’s fault for saying such wicked things after he was already spent.

Erik nearly purred. “Suppose we’ll have to investigate further, then?”

“If you are amenable to that.” To hear such hesitance and formality in such a sweet voice after what they’d just done...

He pulled Charles close to rest on top of him, carding his fingers through the soft brown hair. “Aye. I most definitely am.”

He felt a soft, relieved sigh against his neck, and he flicked his fingers out to close the curtains against the pale light of the moon.

 _I could get used to not being alone._ It wasn’t nearly as hard an admission as he’d thought, though still a dangerous one. There would be things they'd have to talk about when the sun rose.

Then you never will be. The cares of tomorrow can wait until this day is done. The wind shifted, the smells of green things and life promising newness in the morning.

“Good.”

They slept.


End file.
